


thoughts leaving my head, they twist through yours

by allisonmartined



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshee Lydia Martin, F/F, Nemeton, Post 3a, Rarepair repop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She does not know why the nemeton seeks her out, why it calls to her in the night.  But she knows that it is worse for Allison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thoughts leaving my head, they twist through yours

Lydia’s head is pillowed in Allison’s lap, her knees pulled up, a sketchbook held up against them.  Allison’s hands idly thread through her hair, braiding it mindlessly as Lydia’s hands sketch out trees.  It’s always trees.  The nemeton never leaves her.

 

The three of them, they gave up their lives to her roots, she watched as Stiles’ pulse slowed, as Allison became still and motionless, as Scott disappeared under Deaton’s hands.  But the nemeton won’t leave her alone, talks to her in her sleep, coaxes death into her mind and into her pores.

 

So she sketches it over and over until her fingers bleed, until she can no longer feel the image searing itself into her brain.

 

She sketches Allison too, small smiles and soft skin, and it feels like reprieve.

 

+

 

Allison threads her fingers through Lydia’s hair, bright silk strands slide over her palms and between her knuckles. 

 

There are pictures in the back of Lydia’s closet of Lydia in riding breeches, her red hair shining in a tight braid, a blue ribbon clutched between fingers and a horse standing behind her. 

 

Allison never learned to ride horses.  She never joined any clubs. She was never a girlscout, a cheerleader.  She was never on a team. 

 

Kate kneeled behind Allison and taught her how to string a bow, taught her how to hold her arms, taught her how to shoot an arrow.  _This_ , she said, _this what you have, this gives you power._

On some nights, she can hear Kate’s laugh ringing in her ears, _This is what gives you power, this what you are._

+

 

 _Lydia, can you hand me that book?_ Allison says, but Lydia just hums, continuing her staring match with the ceiling.  Sometimes she thinks ghosts swim across the endless expanse of white, taunting her. 

 

Allison huffs and reaches across her but she slides a bit on the comforter and Allison ends up only spaces above Lydia, arms bracketed on each side of her. 

 

 _Hi_ , Allison breathes.  Lydia swallows.  With Allison’s eyes so close, her lips so pink and soft-looking and just breaths away, time seems to slow, the air seems to thicken, and Lydia thinks that maybe she should say something, anything.

 

 _Hello_ , she says, a shaky thing. 

 

+

 

The darkness is closing in, the walls taunt her, _You’re a monster. This is who you are.  This is what gives you power._ And another voice, stronger than the others, _You never had power, you’re inconsequential, weak, useless, Allison._ A sharp laugh, like glass breaking. _You’ll never be strong enough._   The darkness surrounds her, suffocating her, cutting off her air supply, until she can’t get words out, she can’t breathe.

 

Allison wakes with a gasp, her hands clutched around her throat. _Allison?_ Lydia’s hands smooth down her hair, glide over her cheekbones, _It’s okay, I’m here_ , she says and it feels like enough.  It feels like everything.

 

+

 

Months have passed since they gave their lives to the nemeton, but the ebb and flow is strong and it clutches at Lydia, their sacrifices on her skin.  She does not know why the nemeton seeks her out, why it calls to her in the night.  But she knows that it is worse for Allison.  Allison claws at her face when no one is looking and her eyes dim and Lydia wonders where she goes, wonders if she could save her, bring her back, just this once. 

 

They’re in Lydia’s room again, just breathing, talking about nothing, and Lydia notices it.  The dimming, the ashen paleness of Allison’s skin, the way she seems to sink into herself.  _No_ , Lydia thinks, _not this time_.

 

She throws a leg over Allison’s thighs, straddling her and Allison looks up at her bewildered, lost in a trance.  She leans down and kisses her with everything she has, with every ounce of skill she possesses with every ounce of thought and feeling she can muster.  She licks Allison’s lip, nipping at it gently, and that seems to jerk Allison out of the abyss and she sighs into Lydia’s mouth.

 

 _Don’t leave me_ , Lydia orders, begs, surrenders.

 

Allison maneuvers them so Lydia is slotted beneath her.  _Never_ , she breathes before she brings her mouth down to her neck, biting into the skin there.

 

It feels like a covenant.

 


End file.
